


Quietus

by Erandir



Series: Eldarion Surana [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Fort Drakon, Gen, Mental Instability, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Warden (Dragon Age) Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 18:44:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12823737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erandir/pseuds/Erandir
Summary: "Quietus: n. The end, death."Atop Fort Drakon Eldarion Surana faces the archdemon and his own perceived destiny.





	Quietus

The sky was pitch black, not even stars to light the unnatural night that followed the darkspawn horde. Far below, Denerim glowed red, patches of flame as far as the eye could see like a twisted reflection of what the sky should be. Everywhere the stench of smoke, ash, blood, and death filled the air, seeping into the stones and the earth and Eldarion’s armor until it was the only thing that he could smell. The clash of steel and the screams of soldiers and darkspawn alike echoed through the ruined streets. Destruction the likes of which he had never seen, nor ever wished to see.

The stones of Fort Drakon’s roof were slick with blood. Those stones were all that stood between the last surviving Grey Wardens and the archdemon. 

Hours the battle had raged, untold losses on either side. But finally the archdemon appeared to be flagging. Black blood seeped from numerous wounds across it's body, spattering the stones and soldiers who dared get close enough to strike at it's leathery hide. 

An earsplitting roar pierced the sky, the dragon threw back its head in one final display of power and rage, struggling to support itself on failing legs, wings flapping uselessly, too broken and torn to fly. An arrow flew past Eldarion's head close enough to ruffle his hair and embedded itself deep in the flesh of the beast's throat. It bellowed in pain, an injury once shrugged off now one more chip in the demon's armor.

This was it. The creature was weakened enough now that it could not stand. It's wings slapped uselessly against the rooftop when it summoned the strength to move the at all. Jaws snapped at anything that drew close enough, friend or foe, but it's movements were sluggish and weak.

This was his chance. Time to end this thing before further destruction could be wrought on the world. Before anyone else lost their life to this horrid creature and it's minions.

When Eldarion closed his eyes he could see the archdemon still as clear as day in his mind, a beacon of dark energy and red blood brighter than all others despite its weakening. His magic latched onto that beacon easily, pulling the energy into himself. Aches and pains began to fade, the soreness of his muscles from their rushed march and hours of battle, the fatigue melted away as the archdemon's stolen life force revitalized his own flagging body. The blood on the stones beneath his feet, the mangled bodies that littered the rooftop, every lingering scrap of life in the area became his for the taking, soothing his injuries and bolstering his magic. 

He would need every scrap off strength he could find for this. To end it quickly. 

He let his staff drop from his grip and clatter to the floor, unnecessary now. Instead he leaned down and picked up a sword, fallen from the slack grip of a soldier that lay in pieces several feet away. The weapon was an unfamiliar weight in his hand, heavier than he had expected and so different from his staff. But it would be more useful now. 

The archdemon let out another piercing shriek of rage and desperation, claws scrabbling for purchase  and neck lulling to the side as it tried in vain to fight back against the soldiers that attacked it.

Eldarion looked back over his shoulder to find Leliana, a stalwart presence by his side through the horror of this night. Their eyes met and he watched as her expression crumpled, grief warring with determination and the knowledge of what must be done. She knew what he planned even without him having to speak it. "Tell Alistair..." Eldarion said, his voice nearly swallowed up by the battle that continued to rage around them, "I'm sorry... It'll be alright."

He waited only for her solemn nod of acknowledgement before turning away from her again. The sword was a cold, dead weight in his hands, feet carrying him toward the flailing dragon as though in a trace.

For the first time in his entire life Eldarion released his hold on his magic, torn down the careful barriers he held up for so long and let it wash out across the rooftop. Each life, each death, each pool of blood sung in his awareness, so tempting, intoxicating. 

He felt as it hit the archdemon. Watched the dragon whip its head about, suddenly disoriented. A handful of darkspawn stragglers made a run toward him, but dropped dead in their tracks before drawing close enough to touch him. He felt the life drain spell heal his wounds, ease his aches as it weakened the archdemon even further. He felt the ambient magic of the battle drawn in, strengthening him. 

Eldarion had never wanted this life. He had been happy in the Circle. Content, at least, and secure. The Wardens, the Blight, had forced him to become something he never wanted. A killer. A monster. 

The Maker had given him magic and made him an avatar of death. This was his purpose in this world, the sole reason for his existence. To end the world’s suffering along with his own.

A strange sense of calm settled over him despite the chaos that continued to rage. Soon, this would all be over.

As he drew close enough, the disoriented archdemon lunged toward him, jaws wide, teeth the size of his arm already glistening with red blood. But it’s strike missed, nose impacting the stones at his side with a thunderous crash that sent dust into the air. 

Eldarion tightened his grip on the sword with both hands and raised it above his head. He could practically see the archdemon’s life force flickering down to nearly nothing, a candle guttering in the wind. The sword came down, thrust into the dragon’s flesh with all of his strength.

The ensuing roar was deafening, left Eldarion’s ears ringing and the rest of the battle fell beyond his awareness as everything focused down to this one final act. His final sin and his final atonement. His life for the rest of the world.

Blood poured out of the wound in the archdemon’s neck, seeping over the sword’s hilt and staining Eldarion’s hands black with death.

The candle snuffed out.

A searing pain rushed into his chest, a red hot poker directly in his heart, in the depths of his soul.

He could not hear his own scream. There was only that burning pain, searing away everything inside him.

Then there was nothing.


End file.
